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 These Vile Secrets Copyright ‌©‌‌2021 b ‌ y‌‌CE‌‌Ricci‌‌
All‌‌rights‌‌reserved.‌‌‌
No‌‌part‌‌of‌‌this‌‌book‌‌may‌‌be‌‌reproduced‌‌in‌‌any‌‌form‌‌or‌‌by‌‌any‌
‌electronic‌‌or‌‌mechanical‌‌means,‌‌including‌‌information‌‌storage‌‌and‌
‌retrieval‌‌systems,‌‌without‌‌written‌‌permission‌‌from‌‌the‌‌author,‌‌except‌
‌for‌‌the‌‌use‌‌of‌‌brief‌‌quotations‌‌in‌‌a‌‌book‌‌review.

This‌‌is‌‌a‌‌work‌‌of‌‌fiction.‌‌Names,‌‌characters,‌‌businesses,‌‌places,‌
‌events,‌‌locales,‌‌and‌‌incidents‌‌are‌‌either‌‌the‌‌products‌‌of‌‌the‌‌author’s‌
‌imagination‌‌or‌‌used‌‌in‌‌a‌‌fictitious‌‌manner.‌‌Any‌‌resemblance‌‌to‌‌actual‌
‌persons,‌‌living‌‌or‌‌dead,‌‌or‌‌actual‌‌events‌‌is‌‌purely‌‌coincidental.‌‌

Editing‌:‌‌Zainab with Heart Full of Reads Editing

Proofreading: Amanda Mili
Interior‌‌Formatting:‌‌AJ‌‌Wolf‌‌Graphics‌‌
Cover‌‌Design:‌‌Taylor‌‌Farrell‌‌with‌‌Illuminated‌‌Canvas‌‌‌
 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Quote
Playlist
Trigger Warning
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
More by CE Ricci
CE Ricci
 To Ryan:
Thank you for being the fire to my ice.
The Roman to my Hale.

I love you.

And to those of you still looking for that person:

Find someone who can melt you, set you ablaze, and then cool the
scorching flames.

You deserve nothing less.

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be
understood."

- George Orwell, 1984

 Theme Song:
"Let This Haunt You" - Slaves

Playlist:
"DOA" - I Prevail
"Hopeless" - Nerv
"MONOMANIA" - The Word Alive
"RISE" - League of Legends
"Living Not Alive" - The Veer Union
"Sever" - Hurtwave
"Monster" - STARSET
"Dead Love Song" - New Medicine
"Cold Heart (Warm Blood)" - Palisades
"Blasphemy" - Bring Me The Horizon
"Hypnotize" - Flights Over Phoenix
"End of Me" - A Day To Remember
"FEEL NOTHING" - The Plot In You
"Drifting" - Adelitas Way
"Way Down We Go" - KALEO
"I Think I’m OKAY" - Machine Gun Kelly, Yungblud, Travis Barker
"I Hate Everything About You" - Three Days Grace
"Can’t Forget You" - My Darkest Days
"SUCKAPUNCH" - You Me At Six
"Erase The Pain" - Palisades
"Messed Up" - Beartooth
"To Tell You The Truth" - Written by Wolves
"Bury A Lie" - Slaves
"Do I Wanna Know?" - Arctic Monkeys
"Falling Apart" - Papa Roach
"DIE FOR YOU" - STARSET
"Heart Vs. Mind" - I Prevail
“Here’s My Heart” - SayWeCanFly
“How It Feels To Be Lost” - Sleeping With Sirens
Listen to the playlist on Spotify
 These Vile Secrets is book one of five in the Enclave series.
This is a series of sequential interconnected standalones and, as
such, the books must be read in order. While each book will
follow a different couple, they share an overarching plot that can
only be understood if the books are read chronologically.
The foreword is a critical piece of the puzzle to understand the
dynamic of the Enclave society, so it’s best to read that before diving
into the pages of the story itself.
This book is the lightest in the series but is still merging into the
realms of dark romance. It contains subject matter that some
readers might be uncomfortable with or may find triggering.
Only you know what your limitations are.
Please proceed at your own caution.
It only gets darker from here.
 Foreword

Five families make up the Enclave, one of the oldest and most
powerful secret societies to ever exist. It was established almost a
millennium ago, back in the medieval ages of what is now the United

Kingdom, when the Jameson, Mitchell, Sinclair, Carlisle, and Bennett

noble families were brought together under the King’s command to
form a brotherhood to do his bidding. They served countless

monarchs over the centuries, eventually moving to the thirteen

American colonies prior to the American Revolution per King George
III’s request.

After America gained its independence from England, the Enclave

families cut their ties with the English monarchy, disgusted with the
tyranny he attempted to rule with. Instead, they embedded

themselves in the very foundation of the American government,

infiltrating wherever and however they could, this time of their own

accord. They take great acclaim in attributing some of America’s

greatest achievements—from the writing of the Constitution to the

landing on the moon—as a direct impact of their involvement.

This level of power and control over a government, one seemingly

built on freedom and democracy, was only achieved through the
careful division of their power, time, and resources. Five sectors

were created to achieve this: law and politics, information, military

and security, media, and economics. One family per sector, changing
and exchanging as seen fit over time. All five members of each

family are educated and trained in all five sectors, though only one

will be assigned to each, based on their aptitude and skill in each.

This system has worked since the seventeen hundreds and remains
to this day, carefully built within the construct of not only the

American government, but also the society as a whole.

But a brotherhood such as this can only stay secret if the
knowledge of its existence is kept to a need-to-know basis, so they
continued to do what the monarchs from the days of the Crusades
ingrained in them from the start: Keep it within the families.
To this day, Enclave is still composed of the eldest son from
each of the five noble families. The new generation of "legacies"
begin preparation early on in life, ready to be initiated as the next
"elders" of the Enclave once they all reach the age of twenty-three,
after their training has been completed. Once their fathers step
down, one is entitled "Grand Elector" and holds the most power of
them all.
The current generation of legacies—the heirs to the Key—
Kaede Sinclair, Callum Bennett, Hollis Carlisle, Asher Jameson, and
Roman Mitchell, are all now of age. They’ve been initiated and are
ready to take on their designated roles within the society. They’ve
been taught since the birth of America that Enclave’s mission is to
make this country a better place for all who live in it. More
importantly, to never let it fall into the hands of corruption and
tyranny. It’s a noble goal, a worthy cause to sacrifice the freedom to
love who they wish or imagine a different future for themselves.
Some accept it easily, while some loathe it with every fiber of
their being. Regardless of where they stand when it comes to
Enclave, they are ready to perform their duty to family and country.
This is Roman’s story.
 Where the fuck is the FBI?
My skin crawls as I pace back and forth outside the warehouse,
desperation clawing at my throat. Because two innocent people are in

there with a goddamn monster of a human, and it's been more than
enough time for the agent to have been here by now.
With backup. With guns. With fucking something.

I wrack my brain repeatedly, searching for something I might've

missed in the conversation we had with Special Agent Lawson. Go

through the plan in my head, over and over again, only to keep
drawing blanks.
Where is he?
Voices ring out again and at first I think they're coming from
someone outside. But the sounds of tires on gravel and car doors
slamming are missing.
 Fuck me.
It's then I recognize it as his voice. Loud enough to reach me from
inside the metal warehouse. The vile piece of shit.

The fucking rapist.

"Are you really so dense as to not realize? Everything you know, all
the information you've been given about me, my location, was
fabricated. You had it because I wanted you to have it.” The bastard

sounds...smug as he delivers this information. “That's how I was

always a step ahead. I only let you know what I wanted and when. A
game of calculated risks..."
My mind starts spinning with possibilities of how things are going
in there. Enough to block out his words as I continue to look around

the outside of the building. Keeping to the plan because it’s all I can
do to not lose my shit entirely.
I’ve cased the entire perimeter of the warehouse twice already to
find the coast was clear. About the only luck we've run into with this
entire fucking mess of a situation with the country's most prominent
child molester. At least by today's standard, considering the news is
intent on airing all his dirty laundry to the world, letting them see just

how corrupt the United States government can be.

If only they knew a quarter of it.
 I round to the front of the building and come to a stop at the edge
of the huge garage door in time to hear words that make my skin
crawl.
"And it doesn't just stop at the calls and the photos,” the rapist
continues. “The FBI agent assigned to your case? Also mine."
Lawson? No.
My heart slams in my chest as the pieces start coming together.
They snap into place faster and faster, being hurled at me as the last
few months come into play. Everything that’s happened since I left

Thailand and my training to come here.

And then I remember...Enclave recently gained control of the FBI
through Asher’s father becoming Attorney General.
Now the order from my father to leave and go home makes sense.
We're in on this? This is why the FBI isn't here?
My mind continues to spin, needing to make sense of all this.
Because it doesn't make sense. Not at all. Not in any way based on
what I've been taught about the Enclave all my life.
We put the needs of the people first. We keep the power out of
the hands of tyranny and corruption. We don't do things like this. Let
wicked men like him get away with raping innocent children and then
help cover it up.
 I press my head back into the metal and try to think of how this is
even happening right now. Sure, these could all be lies spewing from
the mouth of a man who is desperate to make an escape. To not be
held accountable for the people he's harmed over years, no one
doing a goddamn thing to stop him.
And to do it all ten million dollars richer with the bribe he
demanded.
But knowing what I do about this secret society I've been raised
in, I wouldn't doubt the things he's saying right now to be the truth.
It's all here in black and white. No matter how hard I try to dispute
each sentence, the revelations coming from his mouth make it so I
can't.
We're. In. On. This.
The only thing I can't figure out is why. We're meant to do good.
We've done so much good over the centuries. It's like Kaede said, like
we've been taught. Gaining freedom for America. Technological
advances that enabled us to land on the moon. These things we've
done as a society throughout history only to help.
We don't harm. Not intentionally, and only as absolutely necessary.
And as I hear things like drug and sex rings being tossed out
behind me, I swear to God I might be sick. Because it's a lie. Every
goddamn thing I've been told about my lineage and my future, right
now it means nothing.
The vows to Enclave I'm preparing to take in barely no time. The
people, like one of the three inside, I was forced to leave behind. All
for a sense of duty.
And then there's the promises I've already made to Asher, Kaede,
Callum, and Hollis. The other legacies. My brothers. The ones I'd
protect with my life, no matter how much we might bicker and see
things differently.
The thought of them has my head whirling in an entirely new
direction. The most important being do they know any of this? If
anyone does, it's Kaede. He's all too happy to do exactly what Father
says, seeing as he's next in line to be in charge of the Enclave once

we've been initiated. The next Grand Elector.

Yet I have to believe he knows nothing. None of them do.
We might not tell each other everything, but something as life
altering as this? If one of us knew, we’d all know. These aren’t the
kinds of secrets we keep from each other.
But...that was before.
Before I went against everything we stood for with little to no
regard for how it would change the dynamic between the five of us.
They’ve always seen me as the black sheep. The odd man out. The
one who never fit with this life.
By doing what I did? Putting love before duty? By being here?
I only prove it further.
Would they even believe a word I have to say after everything I’ve
done?
If I was them, I wouldn’t. Not without proof. Indisputable proof of
the transgressions our families have been a part of for God knows
how long.
I need proof. Of our involvement in the drug ring. The sex ring.
Maybe it’s an infiltration or a high-stakes job. But before I can tell
them a goddamn thing, I need the facts.
I have to be able to prove it.
And of course, with the realization also comes the moment my
brain decides to register the words being spoken inside the
warehouse by that sick man. Another secret, another lie Enclave has
kept hidden from us. It cuts me to my core.
It changes everything.
"They're the ones in charge."
 “You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I growl as I glance over the

cabby's shoulder at the mess that is Park Avenue on this fine

December evening.

The burly guy meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, seeing as

we're stuck in standstill traffic, his brows furrowing. "First time to
Manhattan, kid?"

"No, it's not."

I get why he’s asking, since he just picked me up from JFK, but
I've been here hundreds of times. Plenty of sporting events, galas, or
concerts have brought me to The City That Never Sleeps over my
twenty-four years. To the point where this has always been a second

home to me. Truthfully, there are very few things in this world I love
more than New York City.
 But the Big Apple on New Year’s Eve? I've never experienced it.
Add in the holiday falling on a Saturday and I’m beginning to
understand I was underestimating how big a deal the holiday is. The

pandemonium outside the windshield is a whole new level of a

chaotic frenzy.
Tourists from around the country—even the globe—flock here this
time of year to watch the infamous ball drop in Times Square like it's

the most fascinating thing in the world. A bucket list item and
whatnot.
To be clear, it's not the reason I'm here. I don't give a damn about
the day of year or the beginning of a new one.
What I care about is going to my favorite cigar bar near

Rockefeller Plaza, getting a little buzz going, and people-watching my

way into the new year in about an hour. Enjoy the last bit of freedom
I have before officially stepping into my role in Enclave on Monday.
Not that I haven't been preparing for this moment for basically my
entire life.
The cab driver starts rambling about the city while my irritation
grows, watching a sea of people jaywalk across the street, weaving

between stopped cabs and cars.

Oh, fuck this.
 I grab my wallet, tossing him a hundred. "Keep the change. I'll just
walk the rest."
His eyebrows raise as he picks up the bill in his lap, wishing me a
happy new year as I slip out the back seat into the frigid New York
winter.
The wind whips around me and I find myself grateful I only need
to walk a few more blocks to get to Harry's, the best cigar bar in the
damn city. If I'm the one who gets to give the title to an
establishment. I've been to plenty though, so my opinion has to

count for something in the matter, even if I don't smoke.

Well, tobacco, at least.
There's just something about a cigar bar I can't find anywhere
else. The old time feel and the mellow atmosphere put me in a more
stable mindset. Don't ask me why. I haven't got a clue. I just know it
works.
Or...maybe it's the whiskey selection the owner, Harry, always
keeps on hand. And the company the old man brings.
I might've left Philly for the West Coast after high school, but in

the three years since I’ve turned twenty-one, I've stopped by Harry's
whenever I'm near the city just to see the guy. And get a drink from
whatever new top shelf he's brought in.
 He's the only person I've met who loves whiskey as much as I do,
throwing in the occasional bourbons and scotches to broaden our
horizons. His words, not mine. But the times I've been here, which
can't be more than a few dozen, he's made an impression on me.
Enough that I bonded with a man almost three times my age over
some well-aged whiskey and his war stories. Literal and otherwise.
Irritation flares as someone runs straight into me a block away
from my destination, pulling me from my thoughts. I glare at the
woman, who wouldn't be able to reach my shoulder on a good day,
before brushing past her. The run in only increases the need to get
off this tourist-infested street and into the safety of Harry's.
It only takes a few more minutes of dodging drunken fools and
inconsiderate assholes before I'm stepping off the freezing sidewalk

and into the warmth of the building's foyer. That's the one thing I'll
need to adjust to again after living out in Oregon for the past seven-
ish years. The amount of people in this city, even on days when the
streets aren't crawling with visitors from around the globe.
Hell, I'm just grateful I had enough forethought to send my driver,
Landon, over here hours ago to wait for me whenever I was done
instead of being the one to pick me up from the airport. Saves me
trying to find a cab later tonight at the very least, even if traffic will
be a nightmare still.
I take a deep breath as I step through the second set of wooden
doors, reveling in the scent of sweet tobacco and old, worn leather
hitting me instantly. A small smirk plays on my lips as I look around
the place. Not a damn thing has changed, the open floor filled with
tables and aged leather armchairs, a few sofas in the mix.
But what never fails to catch my eye is the massive oak bar,
stained a deep mahogany, with shelves of whiskey behind it. The first
time I ever walked into the place, I swore to God I'd never seen
anything so beautiful. And it seems like nothing has changed on that
front, even years later.
I quickly make my way over toward it, noting the amount of

people in here is higher than average, but still significantly less than
most bars on a night like tonight. It’s the beauty about a place like
this. It’s never overrun with the party crowd.
Sliding onto a stool near one end of the bar, I glance around the
place in search of Harry.
"Harry in?" I ask a bartender who comes to serve me a few
moments later. I've never seen him here before, that I can remember,
at least. He's maybe in his mid-forties, tallish with short salt-and-
pepper hair, and a beard to match.
All it takes is a quick shake of his head for my mood to take a
nosedive even further than it was in the cab or out on the street. I
was really hoping to see the old man tonight. I'm honestly surprised
he's not here on New Year’s, of all holidays.
The guy asks me what I'd like and quickly gets my whiskey to me
after I order whatever top shelf he has that Harry’d recommend. He
brings back a brand new bottle of Whistlepig 18 Year—one I've had
here before—but it'll do for the night.
My finger traces around the rim of the glass as my mind wanders
to places it really shouldn’t. Mostly what Monday will bring, when I’ll
step into the role of CEO in training. I’ll be spending the next year of

my life being babysat by the probably old, stuffy, and humorless CFO
of Key Enterprise Holdings, the parent company Enclave owns.
A sigh—one clearly louder than I intended—slips past my lips,
catching the bartender’s attention. "All good?" he asks, his Jersey
accent thick as he raises his brow.
I nod and lift my glass to him, swirling the amber liquid in the
tumbler before silently setting it back in front of me. I haven’t even
taken a drink of the liquor yet, but he gives me a look of
understanding all the same.
"Drinking to forget," he muses and continues to dry and stock the
clean glasses on the shelf.
Yeah, forget would be the word I'd choose. If it's even fucking
possible. Even if it's not, I'd like to pretend it is. I know I could talk
his ear off easily enough, but I'd rather be left to my thoughts.
Though they're not a very pleasant place to be these last few days.

Hell, the past two years if I'm being honest.

Fuck, longer even.
But visiting Colorado a few days ago, seeing happiness staring me
so blindly in the face, it was a bullet to the gut—and the irony isn’t

lost on me at all.
Like I was looking at all the things I know I want yet lost before

ever having it. A future of my own making. Both in life and love.
Because when it comes to my life as I knew it, there’s no going

back. This is my life now. My future. My destiny and legacy to fulfill to

the best of my abilities. As much as I might hate it, this is the hand I

was dealt. This lifestyle isn’t conducive to falling in love. Not when
secrets and lies cloud and contaminate it.

It’s time to accept it.

 But I’m handling it the best I can. If fucking my way through the
population of Oregon over the past five-hundred plus days is handling

it. Truth be told, I’ve given up on the notion of love altogether.

It’s not worth the pain of watching and waiting for it to slip out of
my grasp, yet again.

And on that note…

I take a large swig of the whiskey in front of me, relishing in the

smooth, warm burn coating the back of my throat as I swallow. It’s

the start of feeling something, I guess. Better than the empty

nothingness I’ve been consumed in.

My eyes scan the length of the solid oak bar before I shift to look

over my shoulder, taking in the rest of the customers. No one really

catches my eye, though I’m not really looking for a hookup. But I’d

never say no if I did manage to find a viable candidate. Harry's just

isn’t the place to be picking up someone, especially on New Year's

Eve. A cigar bar on any night might as well be the equivalent of

trying to find a hookup at a nursing home. Though I'm pretty sure

I've heard the old folks in those places are getting around just fine
too.

Either way, I'd have better luck at a regular bar or club. Or even
just grabbing a random off the damn street a few blocks down in
Times Square that looks like they'd be down to fu—

The thought comes to a complete halt when I notice the guy

sitting at the opposite end of the bar. He's dressed in a dark navy

suit, and I think I can faintly make out pinstripes running down the

length. His hair is dark, cut close to the sides and longer on top,
perfectly styled to accentuate the slight waves. And yeah, while I'm a

sucker for a good looking guy in a nice suit, that's not entirely the
reason my eye catches on him.

It's the bottle of whiskey in the bartender's hand being poured and
slid over to Mister Sex in a Suit that has my undivided attention.

I’m not entirely sure from this distance but…oh my God, it is.
It’s a fucking bottle of Macallan 1926.

The stuff is hard to come by, expensive by any normal person’s

standards, and that is certainly the kinda thing Harry would be

serving me over this damn Whistlepig.

If he were here.
Just as I’m about to call down to the bartender to get myself a
glass, the guy who ordered it glances up to meet my gaze. Even in

the dim light and from this distance, his eyes manage to ensnare me.
Lock me in place entirely. And when he smirks, raising his brow as he

takes a sip, I feel it all the way down to my dick.

 Damn, he’s sexy.
He’s exactly my type, if I were to define one. Even though I’m not

looking at anything long term. Losing the one person in the world I’d

drop anything for has made me far too bitter to look for something
more than a single night. Maybe two. Which makes me not too picky

about hookups. But I will say, this one has everything I’d want in a
guy written all over him.

The most important thing? He’s not my ex-best friend. He’s not
Rain.

And what’s that saying? The best way to get over someone is to
get under someone else?

I wouldn’t mind if I fucking—

Wait, where the hell did he go?

Mister Sex in a Suit is nowhere to be found. Somehow, while in my

internal musings, he’s disappeared from his spot. There’s not even a

trace of him left where he was just sitting at the opposite end of the
bar. No glass, no tip. Absolutely nothing.

Jesus Christ, did I just imagine him?

My shoulders roll as I shake my head. I’ve been way too in my

own head the past few days. Even with every attempt I’ve made to
get out of it. No amount of booze, drugs, pussy, or cock has
managed to pull my thoughts from the one person in this world I

believed would be mine.

Even though it’s been years since I last felt Rain’s lips on mine, he
still manages to occupy my every waking thought. But that’s the

kicker with unrequited love, right? It’s so much harder to get over
because all the would’ve, could’ve, and should’ve-beens.

And my brain?
God, it’s obsessed with the what-ifs. Infatuated with the idea of

him being mine and mine alone. Painting a future together and all it’d
entail. Constantly circling around what could’ve been.

It’s driven me mad. Insane. To the point of irrationality and mania.

To the point I convinced myself it was okay to watch him—them—

from a distance. Practically a fucking stalker, seeing them move on

from the turmoil and chaos my world caused them. I saw them

replace a life of pain and agony with happiness and joy, destroying
mine in the process.

God, fucking dramatic much?

A growl works its way from my throat of its own volition, self-

loathing coursing through me in palpable waves. I hate this

disgusting feeling inside me. The jealousy and anger and complete
and utter disorientation making up my entire being. I’ve never felt so
lost in my life. So without focus or purpose.

Partly because of Rain, yes. I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t.

But more importantly, it’s the bombshell dropped on me, alluding

to the fact my entire life and upbringing, everything I thought

Enclave stood for, is a farce. A farce I gave Rain up for in the first
place.

And when I wasn’t being a creep, watching Rain from a distance, I

spent the last two years searching in vain for answers, for the truth,

coming up short every single time.

My eyes flick around the bar, desperation creeping up my spine.

I’m in dire need of a distraction. Preferably one ending with multiple

orgasms delivered by a man dressed in a nice suit with an expensive-

as-hell taste in whiskey.

Now where the fuck did he go?
 I scan the bar probably close to ten times in search of him. And each time I don’t see him, I begin to

think I really have gone insane. Frustration grows into irritation and I’m about to leave, go elsewhere to

find someone to bury my cock inside, when I see him.

He’s back where he was when I first saw him, making me believe he really is a figment of my
imagination. There’s no way in hell he’s been there the entire time, his eyes searing into me as he takes

a slow pull of his drink.

Shit, has he been watching me look for him this whole time?
And God, how does someone make drinking whiskey sexy? Ninety percent of the time people
grimace or cringe, making some sort of less-than-attractive face while the liquor burns their throat. Most

of the time because they don’t know how to drink whiskey.

Not him though.

He holds my gaze steady, watching me while he finishes it off and sliding the glass across the bar. It’s

only when he rises from his chair that he releases his hold on me. Much to my dismay, he looks like he’s

getting ready to leave. Alone.

And more importantly, without me.

My heart pounds in my chest as the idiot inside me starts to take control of my body. I glance to the

bartender in the opposite direction, ready to close my tab as quickly as possible to follow Mister Sex in a

Suit out.

If I could manage to keep sight of him long enough to—

"Are you done eye-fucking me from across the bar and ready to get out of here? Or is playing coy

your style?"

His voice is silky and warm, but smoky at the same time. Something I never knew possible until this
moment. Like the finest scotch or whiskey.

Holy shit.
 I glance to my side to find the guy—the one dressed in a suit and built for fucking sin I was damn

near ready to stalk—leaning with both forearms pressed into the wood of the bar. He's staring straight

ahead as if to be taking in the whiskey selection. It allows me to study him a bit more up-close, but as if

knowing he has my attention, his eyes flash over to mine.

I'm slightly startled by how blue they are when our gazes collide. They're a shade close to indigo in

this dim lighting, but I'm pretty positive they're actually ridiculously vivid any other time.

He is beautiful though. No, actually, he's...gorgeous. A word I never thought to place on a man.

Yet with eyes that burn like lasers and his neatly cut jet black hair, just long enough on the top to

start taking on a slight wave? Then add in his height and the way he fills out this three-piece Armani

like it was made for him—which to be fair, it probably was. Fuck, even gorgeous doesn’t do him justice.
He might as well be a high-class replica of some Greek god.

Since his eyes are bluer than any ocean or sea, I'd say Poseidon.

"You always this forward?" I return after a second, slightly amused and still a whole lot interested.

"Depends. You always get caught checking a guy out with no intention of speaking to him?"

I smirk and turn to him, an action he mirrors while still leaning an elbow atop the bar. "It's awfully

presumptuous of you to think I was looking at you. Maybe I'm not into dudes. Maybe there was

someone over your shoulder who caught my interest instead. You just happened to be in the way."

I'm full of shit because, yeah, I'm into guys, and I most definitely was eye-fucking him for a few

minutes there. And while I’d like to say it was just because I can appreciate male beauty when I see it,
I can’t lie. I want him. Bad.

His tongue peeks out, dancing against his bottom lip for a second as he lets out a soft chuckle. "So
that's the way you want to play this? Because the way you're looking at me right now says otherwise."
Well shit, as if he couldn't get sexier. His laugh slides down my spine so seductively, even I feel
violated. Which is honestly a feat considering who I am and what my intentions were before he came

over here.
Time to up the game, Mitchell.
"Let's get something straight here." I smirk, cocking my head to the side. "If I were playing at

anything, you should know I always win. Always." Taking a second to pause and check him out again,
this time practically ogling him before his very eyes, I bite my lip and continue, "And considering you’re

fuckhot as hell, I’d be looking at you even if I was straight."

He doesn’t answer me, a smug smile somehow doing everything for him coming to rest on his face

as his eyes scan my body.

 Scratch the bit about Poseidon. This man is most definitely Hades, because he makes going to hell
look and sound so fucking good as he checks me out. Like he’s imagining all the filthy things we’re

about to go do together. Because, make no mistake about it, we’re about to make an orgy look tame.
I tilt my head to the side and study him for a second, noting the wicked glint in his eyes only adds to

the whole I’m-going-to-destroy-you-with-my-cock thing he’s got going for him. A promise I have no
doubt he would make good on if I took him up on his offer to get out of here.

Which I intend to. After I make him sweat a little.

Swirling the contents of my whiskey glass, I pretend to contemplate the way I want to go about this.
And for a second, part of me actually does question whether or not this is something I should do. While

I’m always down to fuck, I prefer to be the hunter. Not the prey. This is completely new territory for me.
But this guy, he oozes sex appeal to the millionth degree to the point where I can’t deny it. Enough

to have me slamming the rest of my drink before I talk myself out of it. Because clearly both the booze
and his overwhelming presence—since he smells just as good as he looks—puts me on a level of stupid

where I say something I really shouldn’t.

"My place or yours?"

A wide grin breaks across his features, and my stomach does a little flip at it.
Why is he so fucking attractive?
"Yours is perfect," he says while I rise to my feet. His fingers wrap around the coat I had hanging
from a hook under the bar beside my stool, handing it over to me.
The moment our skin brushes, electricity zaps through me like a lightning strike. It’s so sudden and

unexpected, I swear my heart stops for a second while my brain attempts to play catch-up. From the
look on his face, he feels it too.

"I have a car outside," I murmur. "If that’s okay with you?"
His eyes give off a flash of heat I can’t quite place. "How can I pass up an opportunity like that?"

I gesture for him to lead the way out of the bar, following far enough behind to get a good look at his
ass. Though a good portion of his pea coat covers it, I can still tell it’s fantastic. Probably smooth and

sculpted to perfection, fitting for a god.

The cold December breeze hits us the second we step from the establishment, and I gesture down

the block where Landon told me he’d be waiting for me inside a nice, warm limo.
I chance a quick glance at my companion for the night, a slight twinge of awkwardness hitting me.
I’ve had plenty of one-night stands, more hookups than I can probably count. But even if I won’t

remember it a few days later, I always get their name.

 Always.
"I'm Ro—"

"I don't need your name to enjoy what your body has to offer," he says quickly, cutting me off before
I could make it past the first syllable.

Okay then. No names it is.

Giving him a smirk I don’t entirely feel, I catch sight of my ride against the curb. Landon’s already
waiting next to the rear passenger door, a clear sign he was keeping an eye out for me this whole time.

I wave him off though, opening the door for my guest instead.
Once inside, I raise my brow at this infuriatingly beautiful man in challenge. "So you don't want the
name you're going to be groaning and screaming while you come tonight?"
He gives me a shrug, a wry smile dancing across his lips from his seat perpendicular to me. "Why
ruin the experience with something as trivial as names?"

I can hardly disagree with the guy, knowing plenty of people prefer to keep it this level of casual. If
he wants to keep his anonymity, I'll let him. So instead of disagreeing, I grab his tie and pull him toward
me, practically yanking him into the seat beside me as we pull away from the curb. The action was
meant to assert my dominance, let him know, while I enjoy tossing banter with him and letting him gain

the upper hand there, I'm the one who calls the shots when it comes to sex.
Seems like he got another memo entirely though, because his lips are on my neck in an instant. And
his hand—God, his fucking hand—is cupping my already excruciatingly hard cock over my pants before I
have the chance to reply.

"Any other little rules I should know about?" I groan when his teeth nip at my earlobe, my fingers
deftly loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt.
"I don't kiss," he murmurs against my jaw, trailing his lips against the stubbled skin there.
"How Pretty Woman of you." The taunt has me grinning like an idiot when he pulls back. His cobalt
eyes pierce right through me, even in the darkness of the limo.

"I'm not a fucking prostitute."

I never thought he was, not for even a second as I watched him at Harry's. He belonged too well.
Held his head too high. If that wasn't enough, he screams wealth and sophistication, which is
something even the highest-class escorts could never achieve.

My fingers trace the bulge—the very thick and long bulge—trapped by his pants, and I raise a brow.
"I wouldn't care if you were. I’m not one to judge."
 His brow arches in return. "You don’t care where you stick your cock. So you make it a habit of going
home with just anyone then."
It's not a question, and it's not a wrong assumption either. While I should be, I'm not picky when it
comes to who I fuck. Man or woman, rich or poor. I won't even deny it. I've fucked more than my fair
share of call girls and escorts. When it comes to who I let in my pants, I don't give a shit as long as

they're down for a good roll between the sheets.

Or in this case, in the back of my limo.
"You trying to slut-shame me, baby? Because with how smooth you were back at the bar, I'd say
your body count rivals mine."

He laughs as he finally—fucking finally—releases my dick from its confines. A smirk spreads across
his face as he strokes me from root to tip, rolling his fist around the head with the perfect amount of
pressure before sinking down between my knees.
"Highly unlikely. Do I even wanna know how high yours is?" His mouth moves down my chest,

following the pathway my hands are making as they release the buttons. "I have certain standards to
obtain. Though even with this body count nonsense, you still pass with flying colors."
I snort, but it’s cut off by him licking the blunt tip of my cock with his wicked tongue. It’s just a single
flick, but goddamn, it’s something magical.
"I'm glad it meets your standards," I manage through clenched teeth, while he continues to tease my

skin with his lips, teeth, and tongue. "Though I don't know how you can even have any when you
picked me up in a fucking bar."
He pulls back and grins. "As if there’s another place to meet someone?"
Shit, his smile is so sexy. Everything about him is. It’s all my brain is able to circle around, this man

being a walking, talking sex stick.

"Fuck, it doesn’t matter," I groan, my hips rising to meet each of his slow, smooth pumps. "Please,
just tell me you’re down for anything when it comes to how the rest of this night goes."
He smirks. "Not quite. There’re a few ground rules."
"Name your price," I taunt. "Oh, wait. You’re not a prostitute."

His eyes narrow and he squeezes my dick. "You’re a smartass, aren’t you?" He doesn’t give me a
chance to answer, though. Instead, he flicks the head of my dick with his tongue again. "I'm down for
anything, but when it comes to anal, I only top."
"Fine," I mumble as he continues to work my length with his fist, though I have to admit I'm a little

disappointed by this bit of information.

 "I don't call the next day."
"I didn't realize I looked like someone who wanted more than one night."

"Just want to make things clear from the start."

I snort out a laugh and meet his eyes from the seat, noting how good he looks from his knees on the
floor of the limo. For someone as sexy as he is, he sure as hell knows how to kill a mood. Maybe he
wasn't lying about his body count being nothing in comparison to mine after all.
"Yeah? Looking to take all the fun out of the experience while you can?"

His forehead creases as his face is overtaken with confusion. And honestly? It's fucking hot. No,
that's wrong. Having him off-balance with my dick in his hand is more than hot.
It feels powerful.
He clears his throat before speaking, "Not the fun, just the complication. Sex is just a transaction

between two consenting parties, nothing more."

A smirk teases my lips. "The more you talk, the more I start to think you were lying when you said
you weren't a prostitute."
His features relax when he realizes I'm giving him shit, and he licks his lips again. "Just because I

don't fuck to make a living doesn't mean I don't know exactly how to make you lose your fucking mind."
I open my mouth to let another comeback roll off my tongue, but he chooses that moment to wrap
his lips around me, and I can't lie, it's magnificent. To the point where I might actually die, though it
would be so fucking happily.
He torments me with his mouth, letting my cock slide over his tongue and to the back of his throat

with astounding expertise. Every once in a while, I'll feel the slight scrape of teeth along the underside
as he pulls back, making my dick twitch in his mouth.
I swallow hard and watch him work me over, both his hands gripping my thighs to make room for his
shoulders. Trying to get impossibly closer without being in my damn lap.

And holy shit, I want him in my lap. Or I want to be in his. I don't care at this point, because if this is
what he can do with his mouth, I can only imagine the ecstasy actual sex would be.
It's on that thought when he does this thing I’ve never felt before at the same time he moves to
massage my balls, and my God, I think I might burst like a virgin preteen on prom night.
"Holyyyy," I breathe, both hands raking into his silky hair. It's just long enough on the top for me to

curl my fingers into it and use it as a way to control his pace.

But he doesn't let me. Lust-darkened eyes, midnight blue in color, flash up to me, and this stunning
man manages a smile around my cock as he slowly continues to torture me. And fuck if I don't love
every goddamn minute of it.
I'd let him rob me and toss me in the street to starve, only to say thank you if it meant keeping his
mouth on me for the rest of my goddamn life.
"Shit, yes," I hiss through my teeth as I stare at him, watching me lose myself in his touch. "Seeing

you like this has me wanting to come so hard down your throat, you won’t be able to talk for two days."
My words only make him smirk around my dick again, a challenging twinkle in his eyes as he cups my
balls in one hand. Between his mouth and his hand and his goddamn eyes, I’m lost. Completely gone
for. This man has absolutely obliterated my mind and sense of self in the few short minutes we’ve

known each other.

I’d gladly bow down at his feet and worship him like the god he is. If only I knew his name.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby," I groan when he does something so filthy with his tongue, I can’t even

begin to describe it. "You’re bringing me to my damn knees just by being down on yours. How is that

possible?"
He pulls off for a second, his tongue swirling around the head before releasing me. "Because it’s

what I want. To show you exactly who's in charge tonight." His head dips down again, and he sucks on

the tip of my cock while his fingers start wandering back over my taint. The brush against my ass,
playing around the rim in a way that makes my balls seize up and ready to explode at any second once

again.
Get a grip before you embarrass yourself.
"You might be the top tonight," I pant, my eyes locked with his as he continues to torment me, "but I

assure you, I’m always on top."

A sexy as fuck grin forms yet again before he takes me down into his throat, sending shivers down

my spine. I swear I hear him call me sir too, and while it might not be my kink, I don’t hate it.
But how is he talking when he’s—
"Sir," the voice comes again, but it's not from the seductive, sinful man with his mouth still wrapped

around my cock. "I want you to know I wouldn't interrupt if it wasn't urgent."
It takes me a second to register it’s Landon's voice coming through the speakers. Shit. A quick glance

up shows the divider is still in place, which is a relief in itself. While Landon’s seen me in quite a few

precarious situations, I'm just glad this doesn’t need to be one of those times.
"What is it, Landon?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"Your brother is on the line. Says it's urgent."

 My first thought is I don't have a brother, but then I realize he must mean one of my brothers. One
of the other Enclave initiates.

"Which one?"
"Ash."

My cock is still deep down his throat and fuck, I really wish I knew his name right about now. But

regardless, when he goes to pull off me, I keep him firmly in place with my hold on his hair. Our gazes
collide and I urge him with my eyes to keep going.

Thank God he does, teasing my cock and my ass at the same time, though I can't focus on how good

it feels knowing Asher is on the line. "Is it really so important, I can't call him back?"
Landon clears his throat through the speaker. "He’s actually calling to let you know he’s waiting for

you at your apartment, sir. We’ll be there momentarily."

Shit.

"Thank you for letting me know, Landon," I say briskly, knowing he’ll go back to giving me privacy for

the short few minutes it takes to arrive home.

Fuck. This really puts a damper on the mood.
The Greek god at my feet must realize it too, because he scrapes his teeth against the head of my
cock before releasing it entirely. His eyes snap to mine and he gives me a wry smirk.

"Guess it’s just not in the cards tonight."

No, no, no.

I grab him by the tie and reel him in, my mouth to his jaw, and I take the time to bite and suck a

path back to his ear. "You can come up still. I’m sure he won’t be long."

A throaty laugh leaves him, warm and rich, and I feel his teeth nip against my jaw too. "As fun as
that might sound, I’m not really interested in a family affair with a one-night stand. Just have your

driver take me home after dropping you off."

I bite my tongue and give him a silent nod of agreement before I tuck my dick back into my pants.

It’s only half hard after the interruption and the drastic turn this night is taking, but I’m still in for a case

of serious blue balls to match this man’s eyes.

Thank God we arrive at my building less than a minute later, before the dramatic change of pace

made this even more awkward.

What a way to start the new year.
Godfuckingdamnit. I’m gonna kill Asher.
 Monday morning comes sooner than I'd like for two reasons.

One, it's fucking Monday, and they're basically worse than finding out you have an STD. Okay, maybe

a slight exaggeration, but they're honestly trash.

Two, it's my first day as an "employee" at Key Enterprise Holdings. Yay.

It's not that I hate the idea of being a contributing member to society or working a nine-to-five or

any of the bullshit monotony most people hate and dread in their lives. No, I'm actually quite looking

forward to learning more about the company the Enclave families built over the last two centuries. The

one that owns, runs, manages, and funds countless other companies all over the country.
But this excitement, it's not out of familial pride. I don't give two fucks about how our families "made

something" of ourselves in America. We've been rich since the medieval ages back in the Motherland.

Which, to me, serves as nothing but a goddamn cheat code to having everything handed to each

generation to follow. Something I've taken advantage of more times in my life than I care to count. The

money and clout from the Mitchell family name. The power that comes with both.
Little did I know how many lies and secrets and layers of deception also came with it.

So while my presence at KEH for the foreseeable future is seemingly out of my obligation to Enclave,

taking on the role I best fit in, I'm really there for something else. One very important thing.

Answers.

I want information and knowledge about the questions I've never been able to ask. Or haven't been

able to get direct answers for since I learned this secret society I've been raised to uphold and value
more than anything else is...dirty.

Corrupt and filled with the most deplorable, sickening and sadistic fucks I've ever met.

The fathers of the five families.

My father, Senator Carson Mitchell, being the worst of them all, if the way he’s helped cover the ass

of a fucking rapist is to be taken into account.

 I try not to think about it often, and thinking about it now as I dress in one of my favorite charcoal

gray Brioni suits is probably a bad idea. Try terrible, considering I have to face one of those men,

Kaede's father, Lucas Sinclair, in merely an hour at the office. And then I get to sit and smile and be his

lap dog for the next year. Until I'm deemed responsible enough to become the CEO of KEH myself,

taking Lucas's place.

While that might sound easy and cushy as hell, it's not the path I would've chosen for myself. None

of this is a path I would've willingly gone down.

All this said, it has to be slightly understandable why my current state of being is Asshole: Level Five

Billion. Or why I’m irritated as hell as I walk into my kitchen, still adjusting the maroon tie around my
neck, to find Asher.
Jackass is still here two days later?
I love the guy to death, seeing as he is one of my best friends. My brother, for all intents and

purposes. He's been there for me more times than I can count on my hands and toes.

But even with all that said, he's also the reason for the most infuriating cockblock of my life with a

handsome as hell stranger I was dying to get my hands, mouth, and cum on. And he didn’t even need

anything. He just wanted me home and sober for the rest of the weekend.
I guess there’s only one good thing about not getting Mister Sex in a Suit’s name or number. I'll

never have to see him again and relive the slight mortification of letting my driver take him home

instead of taking him up to my bed to do dirty, wicked things to each other's bodies. With the way it felt
to just have his mouth wrapped around me or my lips on his neck? Hell, I'm almost positive the level of

defilement would have reached unspeakable levels.

I shake off the thoughts. Get your head on straight, Mitchell.

"How're you feeling?" Ash asks from his seat at the island, already dressed in a standard black suit.
He doesn't even bother glancing up from his computer as he asks it.

Jesus Christ, it's only just after seven in the morning and the guy is already working?
I glower at him. "I'm fine. You hid all the booze before I got here on New Year's Eve so I'd be, how
did you put it?" I ask, snapping his laptop closed, barely missing his fingers. "An adult? That was the

word, right?"
"Yes." His brown eyes, warm and rich only in color, flash to my face with a cool scowl covering his.

"Case in point: you act like a child and slam my laptop shut, thinking I wasn’t paying attention to you
when I was in the middle of a very important email."
 I let out a sigh and turn to grab a mug of coffee. A new habit I've been trying if I'm gonna get used
to being awake at the ass crack of dawn. "What could possibly be so important before half the country

is even awake yet?"

He groans, rubbing his temple before sliding his empty mug my way in a silent request for a refill.

"Election shit," he grumbles, his tone turning sullen.

Ah, yes. Asher is running for office. How could I forget? The age requirement to hold a seat in the

House of Representatives is twenty-five, and Ash just became eligible back in October.
"Don't sound so excited," I quip as I hand him another mug of coffee. Bringing my own to my lips, I
cringe at the taste of the bitter liquid. I can't stand the stuff no matter what I put in it or how I try to

make it. The only thing I've found to be good with it is Irish cream. Of course, I doubt it's proper form
to show up at work on the very first day with alcohol in my coffee.

Sounds like a fucking awesome idea though.

Asher shoots daggers at me with his glare. "It's not exciting. It's fucking stressful."

I roll my eyes. "It's not like you're not gonna win, so why stress over it?"
"You don't know if I'm gonna win," he mumbles, his shoulders slumping in defeat. It's not a look I've

seen often on Ash. His eyes flick up to mine and he sighs. "I'd have to wait two more years if I don't.
And what would I do for the time being? I'd be worthless to Enclave if I'm not in office."

My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek, just hard enough to draw blood. It's been difficult, staying
silent in times like this about the things I know. Or at least have enough common sense to assume
correctly.

Still doesn't help knowing I could ease the worry he's carrying by simply telling him hey, don't worry
about it. Since we run a drug and sex ring under the radar, I'm sure we can rig an election easily
enough.
But Asher—while I might trust him more than Kaede, Callum, or Hollis—still can't know the full truth

about the mess he helped me cover up two years ago at that warehouse. One where Rain and his
boyfriend, River, were caught in the crossfire of a battle they were never meant to be a part of. Never

meant to know of, but somehow have more knowledge of the corruption within Enclave than any of my
brothers do. Asher included.

But I can't tell any of them what I know—or what I think I know—without some solid evidence and
facts to back it up. Not with the stunts I’ve pulled in the past. I thought it back then and I still find it
true now. I doubt they'd believe me at my word alone, because at the end of the day, it sounds insane.
 So instead I take another sip of the scalding liquid that tastes like dirt and cringe before setting it
back on the counter. "Dude, can you please get me the Bailey's? I can't drink this shit without it."

A soft noise, something between a laugh and a scoff, slips from his mouth as he shakes his head. But
then a wry smirk appears. The first one I've seen on him in well...a while.

"Under the sink." He raises a brow, a challenge if I've ever seen one. "A thousand bucks says, by the
end of this year, you’ll learn to love the shit as black as your soul."
Asher and his damn wagers.

I give him a wink as I pull the bottle from below the sink, pouring a healthy amount in the mug
before replacing the cap. "Bet."
“And don’t let Kaede catch you with that shit,” he warns.
I groan. “Fuck, you really think I’ll see him often?”
He snorts out a laugh. “You work in the same building, Roman. I’d say the chances are pretty high.”

I groan again and pull out a thermos, filling it with the alcohol too.
Lord knows I’m gonna need it.
 The double glass door leading into the skyscraper KEH owns in the middle of Manhattan falls behind

me, and I take a moment to absorb the clean, modern interior of the lobby. I've been here maybe twice

before with Father, but it was years ago and I hardly remember a thing about it. Hell, I don't even know

what floor I'm meant to find Lucas on for this little meeting he set up with me before I’m tossed to the
wolves. Or find whoever this CFO is he decided to stick me with for the next year as part of my training.

I make my way over to the sleek, glass reception area, where a woman who may be a few years

older than me, with honey blonde hair, is typing away on her computer. A quick glance up at me reveals

eyes the color of caramel that smile as much as her mouth does when she notices me.
"Hi, what can I help you with?" she asks, giving me her full attention.

I let out a slightly nervous laugh, adjusting the buttons on my wrists. Not exactly sure why I feel

nervous, my family owns the building for fuck's sake. "Hi, I'm Ro—"

"Roman," a familiar voice calls, causing me to pause.

Turning toward the bank of glass elevators at the center of the space, I spot Lucas Sinclair, Kaede’s

father and acting CEO of Key Enterprise Holdings. And Kaede sure as hell is the spitting image of him,
inheriting his tall, athletic frame and steel gray eyes. The only difference I've ever seen between the

two of them—besides the age difference, of course—is Lucas has a lighter brown hair compared to

Kaede's almost black.

The unease in my chest does slightly lessen at the sight of a familiar face, however misplaced the

comfort might be. Truth be told, though I have a lot of disdain for him because I don’t know his role in

this mess I’m trying to figure out, I still don't want to disappoint him. Lucas has always been one of my

favorites, second only to Hollis's dad. Though at this point in my life, I still like them all a helluva lot

better than Asher's or my own. The only two I know are somehow involved in whatever fucked-up shit
is hidden in our closets.

Go figure the two of us who hate this lifestyle the most are the two stuck with the most toxic fathers

of the bunch.
 Even still, Lucas is the only one of the elders who doesn't give me shit or look down on me. Even as I

went through my wild, party-hard stage that’s lasted...well, mostly always. It’s not like I get into trouble

to the point of getting arrested or making headlines in the tabloids on the regular, but the rest of them

sure act as if I was on Page Six every other week.

Not to say I haven't made it there, but what heir doesn't end up in some sort of gossip column once

or three dozen times in their life?

I can feel Lucas's warm smile as he makes his way over to where I'm standing in front of the

receptionist. His eyes flash between us as she clears her throat softly, turning her attention away from

me and back to her computer.

"Thank you, Diem. I'll take it from here," he tells the blonde.
"Of course, Mister Sinclair," she says, not looking him in the eye. Hers flick up to mine for a second,

though, and I see the unrest in them.

Damn, Lucas. All of your employees fear you this much?

"Thanks, Diem," I tell the receptionist, giving her a friendly lopsided grin before turning back to

Lucas.

His attention bounces between us momentarily before he ushers me toward the elevators, not saying

another word until after he swipes an access card and presses the button to the eighty-seventh floor—

the top floor of the skyscraper.

No surprise here. It's only natural for a member of Enclave to assume a position on top of the world.
"How you feeling, son?" he asks as the elevator begins to ascend at a rapid pace.

I snort and shake my head. "Asher asked me the same thing this morning."
A grin appears on his lips. "Ash is still in town? I would've thought he'd be...well, truthfully, anywhere

but here. Most likely in Colorado, though."

The mention of Asher's home state sets me on edge slightly, seeing as I'm doing my very best to

forget it even exists. Hard to though when the shredded heart that once beat in my chest was left in the
snow outside a mountain cabin there less than a week ago.
I give him a forced smile. "What can I say? He missed my company."

A hardy chuckle, one I recognize as Lucas's true laugh, comes from deep within his chest. "Or he
wanted to make sure you made it here without a hangover?"

I can't help but smirk, because the shithead is the reason I have a thermos completely full of Bailey's
with the intention of spiking every cup of coffee it takes to get me through today. I'm just hoping a

single thermos is enough.

Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
tietäjiltä, parannettaa. Jos vainen luultavasti lapsi eli sen imettäjä on
saastutettu, pitää viivyttelemättä lääkärin katselo paikalle toimitettaa.

13:ksi. Suumärkö, suuvieras tutaan pahoinhaisemista märättävistä

haamoista suupielissä, huulten ja poskien sisäpuolella eli ikenissä ja
toisinaan leukaluissasi. Tämä tauti joka ennenpitkää saattaa
palkitsemattomat vahingot, tulee välistä ilman sanottavia oureita,
välistä on lapsi edellä levoton, kuumalta ja vetelältä vaivattu, välistä
kieli ja suu liittaset, vatsa kova. Lääkäriä odottaessa, jonka haltuun
tämä tauti viipymättä pitää annettaa, saapi lapselle antaa
pehmittäväisiä aineita niink. raparperiviinaa, vähemmin mutta
parempaa ravintoa, tehdä ilma huoneessa raittiiksi ja pitää lapsi ja
haavapaikat hyvin puhtaana. Ilman sitä pidetään haavoilla muorutia,
juuriskaa (sinikkaa) eli potakkaa hienoksi kaavittuna ja 2:desti eli
3:masti päivässä uudistettuna.

14:ksi. Ulkonaiset viat ja virhet lapsi-iällä ovat monenlaiset ja

monta niistä vaatii lääkärin hoitoa niink. rainot (luunmurrot,
taittumiset), nyrjähtymiset, hiveltymiset, väärät jalat, suljetut
luonnolliset reikäpaikat, luomat (syntymerkit), revenneet ja muut
virhet. Navanpuhkemia taitaan toki lääkärinki avutta auttaa jos
plyiypalanen taotaan kuperaksi ja, kuperan puolen napaa vasten
pantua, sidotaan kiini napasiteellä, jonka putoamista kahdella
viilekkeellä estetään. Taikka laitetaan lankakerä napaa painamaan ja
pysytetään sekä liiteplaastarilla että napasiteellä. Side pitää likaseksi
tultua uudistettaa eikä ennen heitettää, kun puhkema on parannut.

Luomia eli syntymerkkiä saadaan toisinaan sillä katoamaan, että

niitä haudotaan väkevällä etikalla taikka että rakkoja pannaan niiden
ympäristölle.
 Ensimmäisenä vuonna tulee myös lapseen varjelusrokkoa pantaa,
ison rokon kulkiessa, millon hyvänsä, vaan muuten ei ennen kun
lapsi on päässyt 3:men tahi 4:jän kuukauden vanhaksi.

(Lisää toiste).

Lähde.

(Saatu).

Oli muinen itäsellä maalla isä ja hänellä oli paljo lapsia. Näitä
rakasti kaikkia isällisellä helleydellä ja anto heille kaikenlaisia
hyödyttäväisiä neuvoja ja opetuksia, karkottava niillä osittain
lastensa keskinäistä hyvää, osittain kuuliaisuutta ja rakkautta
itsiansä kohti. Mutta kerran kutsu heidät kaikki eteensä ja lausu:
"minun aikani olento teidän keskellänne ei kestä kauan, sillä minun
pitää erota ja jättää teidät tänne. Woi kuinka soisin teidän aina
mielessänne pitävän, mitä teille monasti sanonut ja neuonut olen.
Mutta aika taitaisi lähestyä, jona ette minua enää muistaisi, ettekä
opetuksiani. Niin menisi rauha, suosio ja sovinko keskellänne ja
muistamatta, etkä kaikki oletka minun lapsiani, kaikki yhden isän
perillisiä, katsoisitta kuki omaa parastanne, vähä veljenne edusta
huolimatta. Ja keskinäisissä sodissa, riidoissa ja kapinoissa
hävittäisitte perintömaanne, jonka viimmen vieras käsittäisi, teidät
maakulkeuteen ajava. Pankaa sentähden tarkoin mieleenne, mitä
teille, kentiesi ehkä viimmesen kerran nyt olen sanova: rakastakaa
toinen toistanne samalla rakkaudella, jolla minua rakastaneet oletta
ja jolla itsiänne rakastatta ja muistakaa aina, että minä olen isä, joka
kaikkia teitä yhtäläisesti rakastan ja paremmin, kun itset, tiedän mikä
teidän onneenne sopii. Ja että vaan kaiken tämän tekisittä, niin
annan teille seuraaman neuon. Tuolla kukkulalla on kalliosta sikiävä
lähde makialla vedellä. Lähteitä kyllä muuallaki löydättä ja usiampia
päältä katsoen kauniimmillaki paikoilla, mutta se lähde, jonka jo
nimetin, on kaikista muista lähteistä hyvin erotettu. Kun sen vettä
juotta, niin ihmeteltävällä tavalla ruumiinne siitä virkenee, mieli ja
muisti selviäpi niin, että joka kerralla juotuanne olen kun paikalla
tykönänne ja muistatta kaikki muinaset opetukseni. Elkääte
sentähden unohtakokan useen tälle lähteelle käydä ja vettä siitä
juoda, sillä niin kauan kun sen teettä on onnenne seisova."

Tämän sanottua erosi lastensa silmistä isä. Waan lapsilla pysy

mielessä, mitä kuulleet olivat. Useinki kävivät lähteelle ja joivat sen
vettä. Ja tunsivat joka kerralla ruumiinsa voimat virkenevän ja
mielensä kirkastuvan, että oli, kun olisi paikalla isä heitä puhutellut ja
entisellä tavallansa opetellut. Näin tekivät kyllä kymmeniä ja
usiampiaki vuosia keskinäisessä suosiossa ja rakkaudessa sen ajan
kauniisti eläen. Waan viimmen alko muutamille käydä vaikiaksi tämä
yhtäläinen lähdematka. Toiset arvelivat, "olleeko tuosta kaukasesta
vedenjuonnista niin mitänä hyötyä, eikö olisi yksi, jos joisimma
kotilähteistä, koska janostumma?" Niin tekivät ja heiltä joutu pian
oikia lähde unhotuksiin. Ja kun eivät paremmin sen virvottavaista
luontoa enää tunteneet, nauroivat niille jotka kallioille kiipeilivät.
Toiset taas kyllä päättivät lähdettä avulliseksi, mutta ajattelivat, "miksi
vaivauisimma tuonne kukkulalle matkatessa, koska taidammaki
sieltä veden kotipihalle juontaa ja siinä tarpeemma juoda." Heki
tekivät niin ja laittelivat vesijohtoja, missä vaan sisään kaivaen,
missä kuurnissa ilmaa myöten juoksuttaen. Monta löyty joka tällä
tavalla vaan omaksi ja perehensä tarpeeksi pyysi tätä terveyden
vettä likemmältä ja runsaammasti saada. He olivatki hyvin huolellisia
vesijohtojansa puhtaana pitämään ja saivat työstänsä jommoisenki
hyödyn. Waan oli toisiaki, jotka laittelivat johtoja, niistä korttelittain ja
kannuttain ilman saamattomille läheläisillensä vettä myödäksensä,
sillä rikastuvansa toivoen. Sen teki moni niistäki, jotka ilman ei
luulleet vedellä minkäänlaista erityistä voimaa ja arvoa olevan. He
eivät katsoneet, minkä maan läpi kaivoivat, jos kohta siinä oli veteen
sulaavia vahinqollisia aineita. Eivätkä pitäneet huolta johtoinsa ja
kuurnainsa puhdastamisesta, eikä kattamisesta, jonka tähden vesi
liastu ja tuli ilman sateistaki paljo heikommaksi. Waan siitä oli heillä
suurin huoli saada laitoksillensa kaikenlaisia kansan korvissa
kuuluvia nimiä, silläki paremmin ostajia luoksensa houkutellen. Niin
nimitti muutama laitostansa Huutavaksi Koskeksi, toinen Paradiisin
Joeksi, kolmas Sionin Wirraksi, neljäs Hunajaojaksi, muut muiksi.
Kaikella tavalla kokivat kansalle uskottaa, olevan heidän vetensä ei
vähintäi huonomman alkulähteen perityistä. Ja ettei sitä maultakan
olisi tunnettu, jos muuten joku ostajista oisi oikiata lähdevettä siltään
juonut, niin pitivät varalla tätä jälkimmäistä, millään seottamatta, jota
maistattelivat nerokkaammille kysyjille. Muita yksinkertasempia
varten maustelivat muilla maustimilla vettänsä, silläki paremmin
ostajia saadaksensa. Mutta niinkun sanomma juoksivat heidän
kaivamansa paikkain läpi, joista veteen suli vahingollisia, vaarallisia
aineita. Näistä liikaaineista muutamat juotuansa tulivat nöyräpäiksi,
toisilla alko pää vetäytä jompaa kumpaa olkaa vasten, toisissa loppu
koko elämän ilo ja nautinto, maa näytti heille isoksi, kamalaksi,
kuoletten haudaksi ja he näivettyvät ja menivät ennen aikojansa
sihen varsinaiseen hautaan, toisille anto vesi erinomasen ylpeyden
ja omakauneuden, että itset korkiampia olentoja olevinaan suurella
ylenkatseella, piampa surkuttelemalla kohtelivat niitä, jotka näistä
ostokaivamista eivät juoneet, toisille saatti se kummanlaisen
kaunistelemisen vaatepuvusaan, teki toiset laiskoiksi, etteivät
kyenneet mihinkän kunnollisuuteen, toisille ahdisti rinnan ja saatti
alituisen huokausvian, kammellutti kielen toisille, ettei enää kenkän
heitä ymmärtänyt peräti juomattomalle… Niin tuli muutamia, jotka
pahaksuen näitä kaivanto- isäntäin petollisia juonia ja estääksensä
kansan peräti pilaumasta, sulasta rakkaudesta kanssaihmisiänsä
kohti, laittivat paremmin korjattavia johtoja lähteestä, niistä ilmaseksi
vettä saamattomille annettaa. Wielä parantelivat itseä lähdetietäki
sinnekulkeville huojennukseksi. Waan mikä ainaki lie syynä ollut,
joko seki, etteivät erityisillä aineilla vettä maustaneet, johon kerran oli
totuttu, suuri osa arveli myöntivettä maukkaammaksi ja paremmaksi
ja osti totuttuun tapaansa.

Enempätä emme ole kuulleet tästä sadusta, vaan arvellaan isän

vieläki elossa olevan ja vaan ajaksi poikainsa luota lähteneen, heitä
koetella tahtova, jos voisivat kauanki hänen nevojansa ja oppejansa
muistossa pitää. Tiettävästi muuttuu elämä toiseksi, jos hän takasin
tulee, vaan miten johtokauppiain ja vesimausteliain sitte käypi, sitä
emme osaa arvata. Olisiko meille siitä tieto tuleva ja mehiläisemme
vielä sillon hengissä, niin viivyttelemättä antaisimma hänen sanan
muillenki, vielä tietämättömille, kuljettaa.

Satuja.

1. Akka, Klösa ja Hiiret.

Akka pelkäsi juustonsa hiiriltä syätävän ja pani kissan vartiaksi.

Kissa kyllä pitiki hiiret kaukana, vaan söi vähitellen omaan suuhunsa
juuston.
 Pane pukki kaalimaan vartiaksi, poika piikain paimeneksi.

2. Kettu ja Kissa.

Kettu ja Kissa inttäsivät välillään, kumpi olisi monikeinollisempi.

Kettu sano itsellänsä kokonaisen keinopussin olevan. Samassa tuli
koirajoukko. Kissa kiipesi puuhun, vaan ketun söivät koirat, kun ei
voinut pakoon päästä. Sillon sano kissa: minun yksi keinoni oli
parempi, kun hänen koko keinopussinsa.

Ei kamaluus kauas auta.

Suomen kansan arvutuksia.

1. Yksi huone hongikossa, kaikki kamaritupia.

2. Puust' on tehty pulkottimet, petäjästä pelkottimet, kivestä

kitunatuset, ravasta rituratuset, keträn vieret kalliosta.

3. Wesilukku, puuavain.

4. Terävänenänen, kaksijalkanen, usiamman kerran käy yhestä

kiinni ja toisin kahesta.

5. Hepo meni talliin, häntä ei mahuka'na.

Osviittoja. 1. Mehiläispesä. 2. Mylly. 3. Myllynsulku. 4. Neula lanka

perässä. 5. Neulikko.
 Suomen kansan Sanalaskuja.

1. Luu lihan valitsialle, kuori leivän alkajalle.

Sanotaan kun joku omaa hyväänsä kovin katsoo. Pitäisiki

semmoisille vaikka ainaki luu lihasta, kuori leivästa palkinnoksi
joutua. Niin taitaisivat oppia, ei aina omaa etuansa, vaan muidenki ja
yhteistä hyödytystä kartuttamaan.

2. Kun on peukaloi urosta, se on naista naukiampi.

Niinpä kyllä taitaaki moni tyttö naidessa ei paljo lukua pitää,

mimmoisen saapi, kun vaan saapiki miehen.

3. Kun on kurja kumppalina, niin on karhu kantapäillä.

Hyvin muistossa pidettävä sanalasku kumppaleja valitessa.

4. Olkoon osa kokolla, kiekin saamista kaloista, ilman linnun

iskemistä, varpusen varustamista.

Kellä ei itsellänä ole suuresti tavarata, siltä ei pidä toisen anoa.

5. On hyvällä montaki nimeä, pahalta katoaa ainoaki.

Hyvää kuullaan kiitettävän, kehnosta ei mainita mitänä.

6. Siellä hyvä, miss' ei meitä.

Monella on tapa elikkä luonto, ei olla missänä tytyväinen, vaan

aina kehua ja ylistää toisen elämätä. Tästä tavastaan on hänellä
itsellä enemmin pahaa, kun kellänä toisella.
 7. Yksin ruoalla parempi, kahden työssä kaunihimpi.

Siitä että yksin on ruoalla parempi, pitää monen työssäki yksin

olla.

8. Äiän tikka puita puipi, ei saa pitkiä pinoja.

Mielettömästä, jos uutterastaki työstä ei ole suurta apua.

9. Öillä päivät jatketahan, virsillä Jumalan vilja.

Köyhääki elantoa pitää jollai huvittaa.

MEHILÄINEN W. 1837.
Heinäkuulta.

Repo.

Repo juosta reyätteli,

Pitkin vuorta voivotteli.
"Riu rau, repo rukka!
Miss' olit tämän kesyen?"
 "Jumalalla paimenessa, 5
Luojalla kasakkatyössä."
"Saitko paljo palkastasi,
Jumalassa oltuasi?"
"Kuusi poikoa, Polonen,
Sikiöitä seitsemisen." 10
"Kuss' on poikasi, polosen,
Missä laiton lapsuesi?"
"Tuoll' on poikani polosen,
Tuolla laiton lapsueni:
Kaikki kettuna Kemissä, 15
Tukhulmissa turkkiloina,
Pispan pitkinä hioina,
Papin paian kaulusuksina,
Sotiherrojen sopina,
Miesten vaino vaattehina, 20
Herrasväen heitaleina,
Waltamiesten vaattehina.
Taianpa itseki tulla,
Itse onneton osata,
Tuomarin turkin hioiksi, 25
Nimismiehen niskan päälle.
On sitä minullai mieltä,
Mutt' on surma sukkelampi:
Millon viskopi vipuhun,
Konsa saa satimehensa, 30
Millon rauat rapsahtavi.
Pahat sangat paukahtavi."

Toisintoja. v. 1,2. Kettu itki poikiansa, kiven päällä kyykyllänsä,

kahen kaupunnin kesellä, Noilla tapporantereilla, Wainovaivoilla
sioilla. R. j. reilitteli, Päässa vaaran vaapotteli. v. 14. Kaikki tyyni
tyttäreni.

Kettu ja Hämähäkki.

Hämärikkö tietä kulki,

Kettu maita matkaeli,
Tulit tiellä vastatusten.
Niin repo sanoiksi virkki:
"Hämärikkö höyrötyinen, 5
Keräikkö köyrötyinen!
Mitä sie kuletki surma,
Tulet tielläni etehen?"
"Minä laiton luojan langan,
Keträsin kerän Jumalan," 10
"Miksis laitot luojan langan,
Keträsit kerän Jumalan?
Mie sun nylen nyrkilläni,
Piirrän peukaloisellani;
Wien nahkasi Wiipurihin, 15
Kannan kaupungin oville,
Sieltä saan sataset markat,
Tuhantiset tukkoelen,
Wiisi Wiipurin rahoja,
Kuusi kultapenninkiä. 20
Niin ostan ison orihin,
Hiirenkarvasen hevosen,
Meren jäätä juoksemahan,
 Somerta sirottamahan;
Jonk' ei jälki jäällä tunnu, 25
Kynnen isku iljankolla,
Jonk' on lampi lautasilla,
Wesi selvä selkäluilla,
Josta velhot vettä juovat,
Tulikulkut tuioavat." 30

Toisintoja. v. 1. Hämähäkki kurja k. v. 5. H. huoran poika

(höyrytyinen, heuretuinen), v. 6. Keräperse keurutuinen
(keuretuinen). v. 10. Kerän Kiesuksen keräsin, v. 12. Kerän
Kiesuksen kirosit. v. 15. W. n. Wenäihelle. v. 16. Saatan Saksan
kaupunkihin v. 21,22. Tuolla ostanen o., Hernevartisen h.

Jälkimaine. Tämmöisiä, kun nämät kaksi pientä lorua, laulelevat

lapset usiammissa paikoissa niin meidän maassa, kun Venäjän
puolellaki Suomalaisissa kansoissa.

Talkkousruno.

Täss' on ihan Istun määllä,

Keskellä pitkän pitäjän
Wanha taarosti talossa,
Jok' on suullansa sulonen
Talonpoikien tavalla, 5
Hyvin hellä herroillenki.
Ompa poikaki ukolla
Jok' on tainnunna talossa,
Rahakopeikan kokoilla.
Ei ne kaikki kauppiatkan 10
Ole konstissa ovelat
Kiviä kereämähän,
Tuomahan Turusta niillä
Suuren voiton voinsa kanssa,
Pormaria pettämähän, 15
Niinkun kuuluvat sanovan
Saman saksan tehneheksi.

Tällä miehellä samalla

Wiel' on virkoja enemmän,
Se on julma juoksemahan, 20
Monen pitäjän pioissa,
Naimamäissä huutomiessä.
Tuleehan tuostai hyvyyttä,
Sukkiasi, kintaitaki,
Kaikki tarpeeksi talossa. 25
Sill' on rehki rintapieli,
Jalat sukkelat sujuvat,
Ompa keisti kenokaula,
Ihan niinkun isänsäki;
Sukunsa on suopetäjä, 30
Tekiänsa tervaskanto.

Siinä samassa talossa

On se poika oivallinen,
Kahvin kauppias väkevä,
Ei se kauan kählästele, 35
Kun on riksit reivattuna,
Haueveellä veivattuna.
Aivan aamulla varahin
On jo ukot orningissa,
Miesten turpa tahroksessa, 40
Kahvin karnusta murassa.
Mitäpä siitä millänsäkän,
Jospa sitte päivän päällä
Onki ukot uuvuksissa,
Kunhan louvut luiskahtapi. 45

Niip'on riistoa talossa,

Että kyllä kykenepi
Talo talkkouven pitohan
Kerran kesässä hyvässä.
Tuoss' ol' kuonossa kesänä 50
Paljon pellolla perettä,
Yli kymmenen yheksän.
Leikkasivat liukkahasti,
Kun on tapa talkouessa,
Kehuvatpa kelpolailla 55
Ruokiaki runsahiksi.
Söivät kolmasti kovasti,
Wielä tilkan viinoaki
Saivat aamulla anojat;
Ujot oli umpisuuna, 60
Leivän kantoa kalusit
Ihan moni eineheksi.
Annas tulla huommenaamun,
Jopa juomahan rupesit;
Suju palkat suukkosehen, 65
Saivatpa samalla lailla
Kohtapyynnillä hyvällä
Wiinaryypyn raittihisti,
Olut tuli ostamatta,
Tuli tutuille hyville. 70
Oispa tainnut ouompiki
Saaha sahtia rävästä,
Waanpa tuotaki varoivat,
Jos se joumuttaa pahasti.

Suurusjuoma survasepi, 75
Ett' on kohta köntyllänsä,
Pyhäpänä pyllyllänsä.
Päätä tuo nyt pyörryttäpi.
Jotka siinä paljo joivat.
Kohta kaivolle käpäsit 80
Wirvottamahan veellä,
Ett' ei ruoka ruumihista
Kaulan kautta katkottaisi.

Köyhärukat kaikki tyyni

Tuohon talkkouteen tulivat, 85
Joss' ol' keitot kelvolliset,
Pässin kaula kaiketiki
Oli paiskattu patahan,
Olipa rokka oivallinen.

Jos hän oli ottavia, 90

Olpa tuossa ottamista,
Sian kinkku kokonainen,
Joka juoksi joka pöyän,
Waikka vissin viisi niitä,
Jossa joukko einehellä. 95
Ei se ennen elävänä
 Sika rukka singotellut,
Kuin se kuoltuna köpäsi,
Että joutu joukon suuhun.
Rieska tehty rikennelle, 100
Kyrsä kyhätty kokohon,
Aika mämmeä mäkätty,
Uunna uunista otettu,
Että joukko juutuksissa,
Wesisilmin sitä nieli, 105
Kun ol torvet tukkehissa.
Wielä viisahat sanovat;
Laihemmille laskettavat:
"Elkäte pahaksi panko,
Ett' on uutta eesänne; 110
Sitä vasten sit' on tehty,
Kaitakasvoille kyhätty,
Että kaitasuus katoisi,
Leuka tulis leviäksi,
Posket punapulliaksi. 115
Uuella sika lihoipi,
Ehkä ihminen samate."

Jälkimaine. Tämä runo on Juhana Ihalaiselta Rautalammin

pitäjästä tehty. Niinkun monessa muussaki runossa, näyttää tassäki
hänellä huoli olevan kotipitäjänsä karttumisesta hyvissä tavoissa,
jonka tähden hän ei ilman syytä osota'kan niitä muillen naurettaviksi,
jotka kieltyllä viinan myönnillä ja muulla semmoisella surkialla
konnuudella kokevat yhteisiä tapoja turmella itse siitä
rikastuaksensa.
 Lapsen vioista ja taudeista.

(Lisää ja loppu).

Moninaiset muutki taudit kohtaamat lapsiikää erittäin, nimittäin:

1:ksi. Rokkotauti, rupuli, iso rokko. Tämä vaikia tauti panorokon

kautta nykyjään joksiki hälvennyt, kohtaa kuitenki muutamia ja
alottaa päänkimulla, väreillä, kuumalla, nukuttamisella, vetislävillä
silmillä, kuoittamisella, oksulla ja vavahtelemilla eli hypähtämillä.
Kolmannella päivällä ilmautuu pieniä pilkkuja esinnä kasvohin, sitte
käsiin ja muuhun ruumiiseen, jotka vähitellen nousevat ja täytyvät
valkialla visvalla. Kuudennella vuorokaudella asettuvat näpyt usein
uuden kovemman kuumeen ohessa, 11:nellä alkavat ne jällen
kuivaa.

Jos lääkäri olisi saatavissa, pitää hän kohta noudatettaa, ellei

saada, pidettäköön lapsi ensimmäisinä 3:mena vuorokautena,
mainituin pilkkuin vielä ilmaumatta, kylmänvoittamassa huoneessa ja
käytettäköön eli kanneltakoon välistä ulkoilmassa, ei kuitenkan kovin
kylmässä taikka kostiassa. Hänen ainoa ruokansa tällä vaiheella
olkoon vetelät jollai happamella niink. esimerkiksi marjavedellä
seotetut kryyniliemet ja juomansa raitis, kylmähkä vesi. Jos kieli on
likanen, annetaan pehmittämiä aineita ja lavemankia pannaan
kuuman ja hourailemisen aikana joka päivä estämiseksi maksan
kovettumista. Nokkopilkkuin ilmauttua pidetään vieläki sairas 3
päivää kylmänvoittamassa, ehk' ei juuri niin kylmässä huoneessa
kun ensimmäisinä päivinä. Wasta 7:tenä eli 8:tena muorokautena
rokkoin ajettuessa tehdän huone lämpimämmäksi, kuitenki raitista
ilmaa usein sisälle laskien; samate pitää juomat tehtää haalioiksi ja
runsaammin nautittaa. Paras juoma on haaliahko vesi, seotettuna
maidolla taikka hiukalla sokurilla. Suurempia rokkoja taitaan neulalla
eli saksilla puhkasta. Puhdas ja siivo menetys on nyt kovin
tarpeellinen; silmät ja kasmot pitää haaliahkalla vedellä pestää; paita
ja lakanat joka päivä muutettaa. 11:nellä ja 12:nellä vuorokaudella,
pitää kuivuvia rokkoja usein liotella kauraliemellä ja hellittyänsä pois
pestä. 14:nellä eli 15:nellä vuorokaudella menköö sairas haaliaan
veteen pestää ja nautitkoo tarvetta myöten vähän liharuokaaki, joka
tähän asti koko taudin aikana on ollut sopimaton ja kiellettävä;
vähitellen totutettakoo ulkoilmaaki kärsimään. 3:men ja 4:jänki viikon
aikoin taudin alusta lueten sairaan ei pidä asua yhdessä huoneessa
tervetten kanssa ja ennen kun häntä niiden sekaan viimmenkän
lasketaan pitää kaikki hänen vaatteensa visusti tuuleteltaa ja pestää.

Ainoasti oikein toimitetulla panorokolla voidaan iso rokko estää.

Waiherokot sikiävät toisinaan isosta rokosta ja kohtaavat
rokonpantujaki, mutta ovat keviämpilaatuset eivätkä kuolettavaiset,
jos kohta yhtä tarttuvaisetki ja samoin hoidettavaiset kun isorokko.
Rokonpano pitää, siis armollisten Asetusten jälkeen toimitettaa
kaikkiin lapsiin, johon myös Esivallan huolenpidosta hyvä tilasuus
aina on tarjona koska määräämistä myöten rokonpaniain kerran
vuodessa pitää kuleksella halki joka pitäjän Suomen maassa.

2:si. Wesi-, poltto-, petos ja valherokot ovat peräti toista ja

helpompaa laatua, ilmautuvat päivän oiretten ja kuumevaihetten
perästä tavallisesti esinnä hartioihin, rintaan ja vatsalle ja sitte
muihinki osiin punasilla pilkuilla, jotka vuorokaudessa kohoavat
selviksi, rokoiksi ajettuvat ja kuivavat rypelälle, toisinaan mustasella
kuorella. 2:den vuorokauden sisässä ovat nämät läpikäyneet yhdet
vaiheet, kun iso rokko 12:nen sisässä. Harvoin niille mitään lääkkeitä
tarvitaan, kun vaan lapsi sisällä pidetään ja rokkoin kuivattua
pestään, eli kylvetetään. Näitä vasten ei auta panorokko.
 3:ksi. Tuhkuri, tuhkarokko on myös tarttuva ja alkaa melkein
samalla tavalla, kun iso rokko, vaan rinta ja silmät tulevat alussa
enemmin vaivatuksi. 4:nellä eli 5:nellä vuorokaudella nähdään
ihossa kirpunpureman näkösiä rahkoja, jotka aikansa oltua kuivuvat
jauhomaiseksi kehnäksi ja katoovat. Tauti on tavallisesti niin keviä,
ettei tarvitse kun hyvää korjuuta, pimiänvoittavaa huonetta, haaliaa
juotamaa öitä vasten ia vilusta varjelemista, liiatenki paranevaisen
aikana ja perästä. Yskän rasittaessa annetaan munanruskiasta
sokurin eli hunajan kanssa tehtyä liemittävää mehua
haalianlampösen vierteen eli mallaskeiton seassa. Wielä maikiampi
yskä vaatii suonenaukoa vanhemmilta lapsilta ja nuoremmille
iilimatoja rinnalle, jonka ohessa rinta pidetään rakkoplaastarilla
avoinna.

4:ksi. Tulirahko, sarlakuume, vaikka alkaissansa helpompi tulee

useen sila seuraavasta kurkkupoltosta kovinki vaaralliseksi. Rahkot
ovat tulipunaset. Liiatenki jos kuumuus ja kurkkupoltto ovat
kovemmat, pitää kurkulle ja leuan alle pantaa iilimatoja, jotka tässä
taudissa, kun tuhkurissaki tekevät suuren hyödytyksen ja harvoin
ilman kaipuuta ja vahinkoa taitaan heitettää semminki keväillä
tulirahkon kulkuaikona. Muuten oletellaan sairas kun tuhkurissai.
Kovin voimattomia sairaita ja pahan löyhän kurkkukipua ja kuumetta
seuratessa, pidellään kun polttokuumeessa ja annetaan, jos
mahdollinen lääkärin halttuun. Taudista paratessaan ovat lapset
kovin hellät vilustumaan, paljoa aremmat kun tuhkurissa, ja siitä
seuraa pahoja, vaarallisia pöhöja ajetus-tauteja. Tarpeellinen on siis
varoa heitä 3:na ja 4:näki viikkona taudin jälkeen ulkona käymästä.

5:ksi. Hinku, nääntöyskä alottaa rinta ja yskäkuumeen tavalla,

kiihtyy sitte niin että joka erityistä yskänkohtausta seuraa henqen
ahdistus ja omituinen hinkuääni, punasinertävillä kasvoilla ja rinnan
kuristajalla. Ryintäkohtausten tullessa ottaa lapsi mielellänsä kiinni
mistä hyvänsä peljäten lankeamansa, ylimennessä ryintäin oksettaa
lasta moniaasti. Tämä tauti kestää 4 taikka 6 viikkoa taikka
kauemminki ja on vaikia sitä ennen paranettaa. Jos mahdollinen
pyytään parannusta eli kuitenki helpotusta sillä, että kohta taudin
alusta selkärankaa hieroillaan 2:desta osasta ihrasta ja 1:destä
osasta laukasta eli sipulimehustä tehdyllä voiteella useammat kerrat
päivässä ja että lapsi vaatetaan lämpimämmästi jota vastoin häntä ei
kauniilla säillä pidä ulkoilmasta kiellettää. Lapselle annetaan juoda
nisuteetä hunajan eli maidon seassa eli lämmintä sahtia vähällä
tuoreella voilla, lääkitten siasta muutama teelusikallinen voilaukaa
(voisuolavettä) joka oamu. Loppupuolella tautia on inkeväri-, salvia-,
satalehti eli kangasjäkälä-tee sirotettuna Malakaviinalla, terveellinen
nautittaa. Watsa taudin aikana pidetään lavemängilla eli purkaavilla
aineilla pehmianä; jalkahauteet lievittävät kohtauksia. Ehkä lapsilla
tavallisesti on hyvä syöntihalu pitää kuitenki ruokaa säästäen
annettaa, eikä kun keviämpiä.

6:ksi. Kurkun kuristaja on pikatappava tauti ja vaatii lääkärin apua.

Esinnä alkaa se kun muuki röhkätauti, mutta pian kuullaan
eriäänensä jokasella sisäänhengittämällä, joka muuten käypi kyllä
vaikiasti. Jos lääkäriä hetimmiten ei saataisi pannaan 6 eli usiampia
jos 10:nenki iilimatoa kurkulle ja verestämisen jälkeen, reikäin esinnä
tukittua, rakkoplaastari samalle paikalle. Lavemankia ja haalioita
juotavia ei pidä unohdettaa.

7:ksi. Hengen ahdistaja kohtaa toisinaan, ehkä harvoinki,

huonokorjuisia lapsia. Tulee yhtääkkiä ja tavallisesti yöllä. Lapsi
herääpi säikähtyneenä ja hengittää kovin vaikiasti röhisimällä,
vaikeroipi puolinääntyneenä, kasvot punasinertävinä. Tavallisesti
ylimenee tuska ryinnällä, aivastamisilla eli oksulla, mutta tulee jällen
seuraavana yönä. Jos lääkäriä ei saataisi, koetetaan seuraavaista
apua: käet olkapäästä saakka pannaan lämpimään veteen, sisälle
annetaan aneksi eli inkeväriteetä hunajan kanssa, lievittäviä
lavemankeja laitetaan seotettuna pahalla pehvalla, tupakalla eli
tupakkaöljyllä ja rinnalle pannaan leviä pikiplaastarilappu ripistettynä
mustain pippurain jauhoilla. Muutamat liittävät hyväksi kohtauksissa
viedä lapsi ulkoilmaan ja ikänsä mukaan antaa hänelle 3:mesti eli
6:destiki päivässä vähä pahaa pihkaa sisään. Taudin lopussa ovat
ensiksi ja sitte kylmät kylpypesot ynnä parempi hoito lapselle
tarpeelliset.

8:ksi. Wesiaivo on kahtaki laatua, toinen pikasempi, toinen

hitaisempi. Ensimmäinen kohtaa toisinaan lihavampia lapsia 2:sen ja
13:nen vuoden välillä ja tutaan siitä että lapsella on pää kuuma, iho
kuiva, liiemmaltä unta, jonka ohessa hän välistä syyhyttelee
nenäänsä kiristelee hampaita ja toisinaan herääpi ja parkasee kuni
säikähtänyt; lasta janottaa, kuoituttaa, vatsa on epätasanen
usiammin hidas ja tarpeenteko vedenjuoksu. Wiimmesillään tulee
lapsi pian tunnottomaksi, ruumista puistellehtaa, sitte kuolee. Sitä
ennen pitää lääkäri noudettaa, ellei mahdollinen, pannaan kuitenki
usiampia iilimatoja lapsen ohimoille, pää veitsellä ajetaan eli saksilla
keritään paljaaksi ja haudellaan kylmällä vedellä. Lapsille pannaan
lavemankia ja annetaan juoda haaliahkaa vettä seotettuna vähällä
sokurilla ja happamella marjavedellä. Apu ja parannus seuraa
enimmiten sitä myöten, miten kohta taudin alussa iilimatoja saatiin
ohimoille tarpeeksi.

Jälkimmäistä vesiaivon laatua osittaa kasvoin kalveus, liikuntoin

hitaisuus, ja ruumiin laihtuminen. Merkeilleen tuleva ja alkunsa
saava joko muista taudeista eli ylen lämpimistä pääpeitteistä eli